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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24664240">Just A Little Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohthedrarry/pseuds/ohthedrarry'>ohthedrarry</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Romance, Sad Draco Malfoy, Young Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:59:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,727</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24664240</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohthedrarry/pseuds/ohthedrarry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco sits on Hogwarts' rooftop, letting himself be covered in snow. Harry's out for a midnight flight, trying to get his mind off things.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Just A Little Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Winter had hit Hogwarts with a force Draco Malfoy had never seen. Not only was it absolutely frigid outside, but the snow never seemed to stop. It covered everything, and seemed to even fill up the quidditch pitch like it was a swimming pool in mid-July. He paced around the Slytherin Common Room, the fire almost bowing down before the force of his robes swishing about at his ankles. Draco could see it now - a proud Harry Potter flying about on his broom stick, the entire school chanting as Gryffindor won the first Quidditch match of the year. Each time he remembered it, he remembered something else pratty and stupid that Harry did. He was sure Harry flew about the pitch, doing handstands and backflips off his stupid broom. The girls swooning at his feat, his teammates reveling in the success of their prince.</p><p>It was disgusting, the way that the school held Harry up on a pedestal. Draco practically growled at the thought, having to resist the urge to grab the candy bowl from the coffee table and chuck it into the rolling flames. They didn't see Harry the way that he did - or the way that he wanted to. To the Muggle world, Harry was just another boy. Nameless, wandering aimlessly through streets that didn't take the chance to notice how special he was. To the Wizarding world, he was King - an idol that was worshiped. People practically kneeled before Harry when he acknowledged them, and made way wherever he walked.</p><p>Damn it all. Couldn't they see who Harry really was? Harry wasn't just a boy, and he wasn't a <em>savior</em> - he was... he was beautiful.</p><p>Draco didn't realize that he'd thrown the candy bowl until it shattered against the fireplace. Candies fell into the flames, their wrappers crackling as the flames began to change color. The only sounds in the room were the flames sizzling around melted sugar, and Draco's intense breathing.</p><p>Draco needed space. He felt trapped in Hogwarts' dungeons, surrounded by moldy brick walls older than time itself.</p><p>
  <em>One... two... three...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>One... two... three...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In... out... in... out...</em>
</p><p>He needed to control his breathing if he was going to discretely sneak his broom from the dormitory. Draco placed both of his hands firmly on the back of the black leather couch before him, letting his shoulders roll forward as he dropped his chin to his chest. He pushed backward, his spine cracking as he stretched out. Draco shook out his arms and legs as he straightened himself up, letting even the most tense of his muscles try and relax.</p><p>Quietly he took the steps two at a time, his feet light on the cold stone. Blaise slept on his back with his left arm thrown over his face, blocking the candle light coming from Draco's bedside table. His broom was tucked away beneath the bed, covered by the emerald green bed sheets that had seen more sleepless nights than even Draco had. He took comfort in that thought - in knowing that the castle had been through more than he had, and would be around longer than he would be.</p><p>The Dark Mark lay silent on his left forearm, and he'd almost forgotten about it until it peaked out beneath his sleeve as he reached for the broom. The sight of it didn't make him throw up anymore. It didn't make him want to rip his skin off, or burn it off in the Common Room fireplace. Harry Potter was beautiful. Draco was dirty. Nausea began to rise in the pit of his stomach, causing his fingers to shake as they tried to grip the broom.</p><p><em>What would father think, if he knew you were falling apart like this?</em> a voice inside of his head sneered. <em>Do you think he'd be proud? Or do you think he'd toss you away like he did everything else with a shred of goodness left inside of it?</em></p><p>He didn't know if he did have any good left in him. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure that he'd been born with any. Sure, his skin shone white in the moonlight, and his hair reflected brilliantly in water and in mirrors. But, just because on the outside he appeared light, didn't mean that his insides weren't all black and filled with tar. It didn't mean he wasn't as dirty as the Muggle-born witches and wizards his father had vowed to rid the world of.</p><p>It wasn't until he was almost outside of the castle that Draco realized he hadn't thought to grab his coat. He paused, weighing the risk of sneaking back for it. He'd already gotten this far. And, really, what was a little frostbite when you can't feel anything anyway?</p><p>He kicked off from the ground the moment he made it to the front steps. The air was colder than the snow that fell, and he quickly landed atop one of Hogwarts' many towers. He could still see the scratches left by the dragon from the Tri-Wizard Tournament on some of them, a reminder of the day that he realized Harry was more than just The Boy Who Lived - he was a boy meant to be loved, to be hidden away from the world and protected.</p><p>Draco leaned against the wall of the castle and closed his eyes. He let out a lonely laugh - the kind you hear come from the lips of drunken men as they sink to the ground in their own piss outside of the pub. He thought about letting himself lose his balance and fall. It would take him maybe forty seconds to make it to the ground, head-first, bones shattering to pieces as they hit the snow. </p><p>If he had the energy, he may have cried. Instead, he let his anguish silently wreck his body. Draco didn't know if it was the cold or self-hate that caused his body to contort the way that it did, but it tried folding itself in half as many times as it could. His stomach ached with the pain of it all, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. He ripped at hair, and chewed at his sleeves to keep from screaming out in pain. The snow began to burn shortly thereafter, his fingers being lapped up by white hot flames. </p><p><em>Let me fall</em>, he screamed into the void. <em>Let me die. Let me out of my misery.</em> </p><p>But, he didn't. His body stayed rooted firmly in place, squeezed into a space barely big enough for all of his regret. </p><p>Draco wasn't sure when the pain started to subside, or when his body stopped shaking. He wasn't even aware of his eyes closing, or the fact that his heart was beginning to slow down. He didn't notice that his life was slipping away, slowly, quietly, and without objection. He relaxed into the feeling of sleep, not bothering to care if he'd wake up.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Harry leaned forward on his broomstick, the weight of his body propelling it <em>faster</em> and <em>faster </em>and<em> faster</em>. Snowflakes pelted his glasses like rubber bullets, nicking and tearing at the glass like they wanted to break through and pierce his eyes. He kept feeling that,<em> if he did one more figure-8</em>, everything would stop. If he could circle the goal post <em>two more times</em> everything would be <em>fine</em>. </p><p>Fuck everyone who expected him to do what they wanted. Harry knew who he was - who he was supposed to be. He was the Chosen One - a fucking Savior sent to save the Wizarding World from its own prejudice and malice. He had to keep everyone - strangers, liars, thieves, people he had never and would never meet - safe. </p><p>He nose dived at the ground at full speed, watching the snow fly by at what felt like hundreds of kilometers per hour. He dove until he could see each individual snowflake covering the ground of the pitch - only when he was moments from smashing to pieces did he pull up and shoot back into the sky. He did that two, three, four more times before circling the opposite goal post. </p><p>No one else could seem to understand who he was, or what role he was supposed to play. Hermione saw him as a little boy, someone who needed to be raised and taught and looked after. Ron couldn't care less these days, ever since he and Lavender Brown got together. He'd rather shove his tongue down some girl's throat while Harry battled with himself and his will to keep living. </p><p>Not to keep living, per se. But the will not to simply disappear. He could do it - he had enough money. He could disappear into the Muggle world and never return. He could forge all of the documents he needed to get somewhere - anywhere - else. Perhaps the United States would be a good change, or Canada. No one would suspect the wonderful Harry Potter of running away to Canada. </p><p>The thought made him angry. He thought of the search parties they would send for him, the mess that running away would make. He knew it wasn't Voldemort that he was truly scared of, but the public. Voldemort was just one battle, one nemesis to get rid of. And after he did it? They would parade him around the streets like a show pony. He would be showered in gifts and photo ops and asked to sign millions of objects. The girls already threw themselves at him constantly. Afterwards it would be much worse. They would pour in from every corner, every entryway to try and get at him. </p><p>He already felt them stare at him in the halls and during classes. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner especially - when he was trapped at a long dining table, unable to hide behind his Invisible Cloak. He'd often tried to have Ron and Hermione smuggle him back food, but Hermione insisted he eat with everyone else. <em>He was supposed to</em>, she had said. <em>He couldn't seem aloof, people wouldn't like it</em>. </p><p>Well, <em>he</em> didn't like it. Not one bit. He hated everything about-</p><p>Harry saw something shimmer in the distance off Hogwarts' rooftop. The shiny object began to move, as if it was falling from atop one of the towers. Harry decided to take a closer look, and began to race when he realized that it was a broom that was falling. And it was being quickly followed by its owner. </p><p>He didn't realize it was Draco Malfoy until Draco landed on his broom. He didn't seem to be breathing, and his skin was a bright red that seemed dangerous. </p><p><em>At least he isn't blue</em>, Harry thought to himself as he descended to the ground. <em>It's only bad if they turn blue, right?</em></p><p>Landing while holding an unconscious, six-foot tall <em>man</em> was more difficult than Harry thought it would be. Draco's body nearly collapsed into the snow, and Harry had to settle for simply letting his broom drop to the ground in his effort to keep Draco at least somewhat vertical. If he had known when he'd snuck out of his Common Room to go for a midnight flight that he'd be tasked with trucking a possibly dead Draco Malfoy and two broomsticks to the infirmary, he...</p><p>The thought hit Harry like a train. He still would have gone out. Looking at Draco in the moonlight was <em>something</em>. His mouth was slightly open, shallow breaths parting his lips ever so slightly. So he was breathing. Harry noticed for the first time how long Draco's neck was, or how defined his adam's apple was. Harry's mouth was suddenly dry, his own breathing starting to quicken. </p><p>Quickly, he nearly dragged Draco to the front door of the castle. </p><p>"Stay there," he half-joked, setting Draco down and leaning him upright. He ran to get the brooms, and then began the task of half-dragging, half-carrying Draco halfway across the castle. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Draco woke with the sense that he'd had one of the craziest dreams. His heart beat quickly in his chest, but for once it wasn't out of stress. He wanted to jump back into the dream, to feel what he had been feeling only moments before. </p><p>He could remember falling - slow, peaceful falling. The kind of falling that you feel the first time you see your first love. Slow, and deliberate - purposeful. Falling into rose bushes that smell like clementines, the air around you warm and almost suffocating. That feeling of choking, but not dying - just trying to catch your breath, ridding your throat of all the bad words it'll shove out of your mouth because <em>this person is different</em>. This person is goodness and freedom and strawberry lollipops. </p><p>And then they catch you. That person catches you, and their arms are the strongest things that you've ever felt. Not even the foundation of your childhood home could support you - and yet these arms come out of nowhere and they hold you up, as if you're something to be appreciated. And even though you aren't, even though you're <em>shit</em>, this person catches you and takes you dancing through poppyseed fields. </p><p>For a few moments he struggled to get that feeling back, to soak it all up until it became his very essence. That ended quickly, when he realized that he was wrapped up in a hospital blanket. </p><p>"What in the name of-" Draco stopped when he realized that he was in the infirmary. He practically growled, dropping his head back onto the pillow. Madame Pomfrey came scurrying over, rushing to place a warm rag on his forehead. </p><p>"Shhh," she hushed him as if he were her own child. He wanted to be angry, but the knowledge of what was on his left arm - the knowledge that being cared for in a school hospital is the closest thing he'll ever get to that <em>feeling</em> - caused him to relax into the feeling of her fussing over him. "You had a nasty fall last night. Potter found you outside in the snow, says he thinks you fell from your broom."</p><p><em>Potter found him?</em> Draco felt... he didn't know what he felt. Embarrassed, stressed out, flattered, warm, scared - it was too much. Anger was simple, disdain was practical - his usual feelings were what he was comfortable with. But... this? </p><p>He'd known of his feelings for Harry for years. He'd accepted them the night that the Dark Mark was burned into his arm - the night that he accepted that he was throwing away any and every chance at expressing his true feelings. Not only to Harry - to everyone.</p><p>Draco knew that he hadn't fallen from his broom, he was sure of that much. Did Harry find him on top of the tower asleep? Had Harry gotten worried?</p><p>Someone let out an awkward cough, the kind that people force to get someone's attention. Madam Pomfrey and Draco looked up to see Harry standing there in front of them, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. </p><p>"Harry," Madam Pomfrey smiled warmly, sitting up. She nodded goodbye to both of them before walking away. </p><p>Draco kept his eyes on her for as long as he could to avoid looking at Harry. He could hear him moving to take a seat next to his bed, and his muscles began to tense. </p><p>"So, you missed most of today's classes," Harry said nonchalantly, playing with the sleeve of his robe. "Slughorn wasn't pleased, but then again, I think he thinks you just skipped."</p><p>"One thing I don't do is skip classes," Draco rolled his eyes. People really viewed him as having that little ambition. The nerve. </p><p>"You know, you scared me last night," Harry said abruptly, almost cutting Draco off. Draco had to fight the urge to meet Harry's eyes. He didn't know what kind of emotions he'd see there, and he didn't know what emotions would show in his own. </p><p>He felt silly, sitting in that hospital bed while Harry Potter of all people accused him of causing him worry. What had he become? What kind of man was he? The kind who dreamt about sunshine and got... <em>nervous?</em>... around Harry. </p><p>"I can assure you, Potter," Draco rolled his eyes for effect. "It wasn't my intention."</p><p>"What was your intention? Seriously, what <em>were</em> you thinking?"</p><p>The tone in Harry's voice was accusatory, and condescending - like a parent asking their child why they touched a flame. </p><p>"I wasn't thinking I was going to pass out on a rooftop and fall, if that's what you're accusing me of," Draco snapped back. "And, in case you'd like to know, it would have been better if you would have just let me fall. Honestly, what were <em>you</em> thinking?"</p><p>"I..." Harry narrowed his eyes, his lip thinning into a fine line. "I was thinking that I wasn't going to just let you get hurt."</p><p>"Why not?" Draco finally turned to meet Harry's eyes. "Where'd your fight go, Potter? Where's the nosy little prat that is always looking for a fight with me?"</p><p>"You start every single one of our - you know what?" Harry stood up, shaking his head. "I'm done here."</p><p>"I didn't even know you'd started to do anything at all," Draco turned to lay on his side, his back to Harry. </p><p>He almost turned around to say something to stop the sound of Harry's retreating footsteps, but his pride wouldn't let him. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to get that feeling back. If he could feel just a little bit of it - a little bit of love - he'd be okay.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Harry didn't see Draco again until a few days later, when he stumbled upon him tucked away in a stairwell. Draco was sitting there, idly swirling green sparks from the tip of his wand. The faint light lit up his face in a delicate way, reminding Harry of a meadow in the springtime. He was in a white button up and black pants, the top three buttons of his shirt undone. Harry could see his left collarbone, and the entire length of his neck. </p><p>He wasn't sure how long he stood there and stared before the thought crossed his mind that he wanted to sit down next to Draco and put his hand on his cheek. Draco's skin looked velvet smooth, and he wanted to know what it felt like. </p><p>Draco looked up and immediately froze, his expression neutral and slightly defensive. The green sparks dissipated slowly until the two were left in only the light of the torches on the walls. </p><p>"I didn't want you to get hurt for a lot of reasons," Harry heard himself saying. All he could focus on was the steel-grey color of Draco's eyes, reminding him of just how cold Draco could be. "Sure, it's because I have a basic need to ensure the safety of others. But, also... you're worth saving."</p><p>The words hung in the air between them, settling into the stonework and their bones as dust settles on old memories. </p><p>"What about me is worth saving?" Draco asked. Harry took a step closer. </p><p>"I see the way that you protect those that you love. You protect your own - it's more out of survival than anything else, but that makes it that much more... passionate. And you seem... passionate. You seem alive. You're quick witted, and an ass, but that's how you charm your way out of everything. It's bullshit, really, but something truly spectacular to watch. You're intelligent, and can read a room and play people to your advantage. You're calculating. And that's why I can't understand why you'd do something so dangerous, so stupid."</p><p>Harry tried to read the expression on Draco's face, but it was impossible. Draco looked as if he wanted to run away and collapse at the same time, and that was something that Harry hadn't expected. He wanted to wrap Draco up in his arms and hold him together, hold him up like he had just days before. He wanted to catch him. </p><p>"I needed to get away from everything. I needed to stop breaking things, and screaming into a pillow, and I needed to just... escape. When I sat down on that rooftop, I did want to fall. I wanted to shatter into a thousand little pieces and forget that my life had ever happened. I didn't mean to fall. I hadn't even realized I'd fallen asleep."</p><p>Draco took a deep breath, and tugged up the sleeve of his shirt. The Dark Mark stared up at them both, the pitch black eyes staring into Harry's heart. Draco had done it - he was one of them. He looked so broken, sitting there like that. Instead of feeling disgust, Harry felt like he needed to fix it.</p><p>"It wouldn't have been the worst thing, if you'd let me fall," Draco continued. "It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble."</p><p>Harry wasn't sure what Draco meant by that, and the look on Draco's face told him that whatever it was, it was sure to cause a great deal of pain. But none of that mattered to Harry. All that mattered was that he knew what it felt like to touch Draco's skin, and to cradle Draco against his chest. </p><p>He approached slowly, worried that Draco would point his wand at him. But, Draco didn't move. He watched with a blank expression as Harry got closer, close enough to reach out and cup his chin in his hand. He bent at the knees until the pair were eye level with one another. Gently, Harry leaned his forehead against Draco's. </p><p>"I'm happy I caught you," He said. "And I'll catch you every time."</p><p>Draco let out a soft, dark chuckle. </p><p>"What's that supposed to mean, Potter?"</p><p>"Can I kiss you?"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Draco pulled back, his eyes wide. But, he didn't point his wand, and he didn't shove Harry away. His eyes were curious and guarded, sizing up Harry and his intentions. </p><p>"Just once," Harry's voice came out hoarse. "I just want to know what it would feel like."</p><p>The corners of Draco's lips tugged up into the softest of smiles as Draco briefly dropped his eyes. When the rose back up to meet Harry's, they were warm. Harry reached out to pull Draco closer to him, close enough that he could press his lips to Draco's and feel like he was falling. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>just some soft drarry love for your pleasure - please leave a kudos and a comment if you're feeling up to it :) </p><p>also let me know if this story feels unfinished to you; when i started it, i didn't plan on it being longer than /maybe/ 1k words and here we are, if you'd like to see more please let me know!! i'd love to revisit this piece and give them some extra love</p></blockquote></div></div>
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